


You Need a Break

by ChristianCat



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sick Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5691010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristianCat/pseuds/ChristianCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur falls sick and Eames becomes a motherhen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need a Break

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know there's about a thousand and one similar fics but bear with alright I needed to write something K?? k.

Hiding up in an old cabin in the French Alps seemed like a great idea, initially. Up in the Alps, the team were hidden from the eyes of law enforcements and previous employers. If anyone wanted to take them out, they’d have to make their way up the mountain in the bitter cold, battling against the wind and snow. Arthur was proud of himself for finding such a supreme location for their work, 

Hiding up in an old cabin in the French Alps seemed like a great idea, initially, until Arthur got sick. What at first started out as a regular cold became a debilitating flu, quickly followed by fever. 

At first, this delighted Eames. Arthur was far too exhausted to respond to his gibes, or realise when he was being teased. Often, he wouldn’t even notice Eames was talking to him. It didn’t particularly bother Eames at first, until Arthur got so sick he needed a break. 

“Arthur?” Eames was stood right by his side, but Arthur didn’t seem to notice him. He was staring blankly at his computer screen, headphones on but nothing playing. 

“Arthur, listen to me,” He tried again, shaking his shoulder. Arthur groaned and lay his head down on the desk. 

“Eames, piss offfff!” He whined. He was so tired, and he had work to do, he didn’t need Eames nagging him about something pointless, about how nice his arse looked today, or something else completely irrelevant. “Too sick for your bullshit!” He sniffled, just to prove his point. 

“I know, poppet, you need to go back to bed,” He chuckled and rubbed Arthur’s back, feeling how warm he was underneath the Kiton suit (Eames had tried telling Arthur he didn’t need to dress up every day, but it seemed Arthur only owned expensive suits). 

“Nooo I have work to do, Eames! You’re distracting me, go away!” He rolled onto his side so he could look at Eames and flung an arm across his forehead dramatically. 

Eames sighed and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t going to sit and let Arthur stare at his computer screen for the rest of the day. 

“You’re not working, Arthur darling, you’re too sick for that. You need a break, I will force you,” He tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Oh I’m sure you will Eames,” Arthur narrowed his eyes and rolled over again. He pulled himself upright, adjusted his collar, and resumed staring hopelessly at the overly-complicated spreadsheet he’d created for himself. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be doing. The light of the screen was burning his eyes and his head pounded.

“Arthur,” Eames warned. “You need to take a break, love.” 

“I’m doing splendidly, thank you very much, Mr Ea-“

Eames had pushed his chair away from the desk, before grabbing Arthur and swinging him over his shoulder. Arthur barely had time to register what happened before he was carried off upstairs. He whined in annoyance and squirmed. 

“Eames!! Eames put me down!!” He tried, his voice raspy. His arms and legs flailed everywhere, tried to grab at walls or kick out at his captor. Eames struggled to carry him up the stairs, trying to avoid being kicked in the groin and trip on a step was no easy task. He soon exhausted himself, and besides, Eames’ shoulder felt a good place to take a quick nap on. 

He settled down, wrapping his arms around Eames’ neck for more support, out of breath from his struggle. Eames adjusted his hold carefully, making sure he didn’t jostle Arthur too much, before carrying on his way to Arthur’s room. 

He set Arthur down on his bed, shaking him gently. “Hey, you need to take that suit off, darling,” He said quietly. 

Arthur groaned and rolled over onto his side, kicking his shoes off. “I’m supposed to be at work, Eames!” He sounded even worse than before, his voice clogged and nasally. 

“Too sick for work, poppet, you need to rest, you’re only going to get worse if you don’t,” He tugged Arthur’s suit jacket from his shoulders, forcing his arms back so he could remove it. Arthur whined. 

“But then who’s going to do my work?!” He rolled onto his back to look at Eames. 

“You’ll be right as rain in a few days, don’t you worry about your work,” He’d already started undoing Arthur’s shirt buttons. 

Arthur whined and rubbed his temples. His head hurt more, and his chest felt like a great weight was pressing down on him. He hadn’t noticed Eames’ attempts to undo his shirt, he was too focused on all the work he was going to miss. 

“Arthur, you need to take a break, otherwise you’ll just get worse and worse.” Eames was looking at him like a concerned mother, his big grey eyes all pupil, and Arthur had never felt more cared for, not since Mal anyway. 

He sighed. He sat up so he could slide his shirt from his shoulders. It was damp with sweat and he was glad to feel cool air on his skin. Eames would’ve loved to take more time to admire how lovely Arthur looked, how fantastic his body was, but he was supposed to be looking after Arthur, not trying to sleep with him. 

“Could you get me a glass of water?” Arthur asked, standing up to remove the rest of the suit. It was probably ruined, thanks to the sweat, but he didn’t really care. He could always buy another. Maybe treat himself to something more expensive. He kicked the trousers across the room and flopped back down on his bed. 

Eames chuckled and went to get him his water, looking for ibuprofen too. Everyone else was still at their meeting with their employer, no one had seen him drag Arthur up to bed. They probably wouldn’t have approved, no matter how ill Arthur became. 

“Here you go love, there’s some painkillers here too,” He set the glass and the box down on the bedside table and switched the little lamp on. Arthur’s face was flushed red with heat and his eyes were slightly glazed over. “Come on now, sit up.” 

Arthur groaned and forced himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes. Everything ached, a small fire burning in every muscle and bone in his body. “Thanks, Eames,” He said, before swallowing the painkillers and gulping down the water. He nestled back into the pillows, not complaining when Eames’ hand moved in to pet his hair. 

***

Over the next few days, Eames became Arthur’s carer. He juggled his work and made sure Arthur stayed in bed. Occasionally, he’d have to shoo him back off to bed, when he tried to sneak downstairs to do some work. He’d bring him cups of tea and bowls of their architect’s homemade soup if he got too cold, or icy bottles of water and clean, non-sweaty clothes if he got too hot. 

Eames rather enjoyed mothering him, depending on Arthur’s mood. Sometimes, if Arthur was really sleepy, he’d be sweet and docile, he wouldn’t mind Eames gently petting his hair. On days like these, he didn’t mind listening to Arthur’s random, tired musings. If, however, Arthur was grumpy and stressed, he’d slap Eames’ hand away and mutter something about being treated like a child. 

Five days since Eames first dragged Arthur away from work, Eames bought him his tea as he usually did, but he could tell something was different when he stepped in Arthur’s room. He was curled up in bed, hand on his forehead. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair a mess and heavy bags under his eyes. He sat up when he noticed Eames in the doorway. He shuffled across to leave room for Eames. 

“It’s alright darling, how are you feeling today?” He wanted to wrap Arthur up in his arms, cuddle him close to his chest. 

“Okay.”

“Just okay?” He sat next to Arthur. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve been thinking…” He looked down and stared into his tea. 

Eames took a risk and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. He was a narrow person with slim wrists and ankles, but he was deceptively strong. He didn’t appear to be muscular, and his height and slimness helped him appear smaller and less threatening. 

Arthur sighed. “Do you need to go back downstairs?” 

“No, I can stay and listen if you like,”

Arthur sighed and nestled closer to Eames. “I’ve been thinking…about Mal, again, and how much she looked after me and how she took me under her wing and protected me,”

Eames smiled and cuddled him closer. “She loved you a lot, Arthur, you were like a little brother to her,”

He nodded. “And no one cared for me like that since. Until now.”

He looked up at Eames, his dark eyes wide and watery. He waited for a reaction, waited to see what Eames would say. He’d never told anyone before, about his loneliness since Mal’s death. How could he? Cobb lost a wife. Next to Cobb, Arthur hadn’t lost anything. 

“And if I’m really honest? I don’t think I’ve had many real friends since she died, I’ve been really…alone, I guess...” Arthur glanced back down into his tea to avoid Eames’ gaze. 

“You feel like that?” Eames said quietly. His hand was in Arthur’s hair again, combing through the tangles in his soft black hair. Arthur nodded.

“It really means the world to me, Eames, that you care about me enough to drag me from work and look after me, no one else would’ve done that for me,” Arthur hid his face in Eames’ neck, his ears turning pink. 

“Arthur, why haven’t you told anyone about this?” Eames asked. He had that concerned mother look again, wide, watery grey eyes. He pulled Arthur’s chin up to look him in the eye. 

Arthur just shrugged. “Who would listen? I mean, Cobb, he lost his wife, and aside from him, who else do I have?” 

Eames couldn’t help but be hurt. “You have me, darling, and I know I tease you and annoy you but I care about you, I care about you deeply,”

Arthur smiled slightly. He could feel his head beginning to pound again, the heat in the room creeping over him and making his skin crawl. 

“I thought you knew that by now, pet,” Eames chuckled. 

“Knew what?” Arthur yawned.

Eames’ would’ve launched into a ridiculous diatribe about how much he adored Arthur, how he admired his work ethic and his stamina, his dry sarcasm. He would’ve loved to tell him how beautiful he was, how everything about him was adorable and lovable. But he could see Arthur’s eyes closing, his body twisting and relaxing into peaceful sleep. 

“Nevermind, darling, we’ll talk about this some other time.” He carefully slipped out from underneath Arthur, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, hoping that would convey what he’d always wanted to say.


End file.
